


the timing of you

by megeggsalad



Series: safety (i find it in you) [1]
Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: (only once and i do not endorse that in any way, Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Drunk Driving, Dysfunctional Family, Homophobia, M/M, Mutual Pining, Platonic Cuddling, Recovery, Self-Hatred, Suicide Attempt, they're all english majors yall!!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-30
Updated: 2017-04-30
Packaged: 2018-10-25 13:50:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10765530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/megeggsalad/pseuds/megeggsalad
Summary: “I need to let this go,” Dylan says, because he’s known for a few weeks now that he does. It’s pointless, this pining, and he might be in love with Connor, but he’s starting to fall in love with himself, too, and that’s more important, right now.





	the timing of you

**Author's Note:**

> hey, kids. this took me a long, long time to write. there are literal pieces of my heart in this. it is very, very much about me, and it is personal in every way you could imagine. that said: don't ever fucking drive drunk. don't do it. it's horrible, and i would never, ever advocate for that. it doesn't really read like i am, i just wanted to make sure you knew.  
> there are some things that should be italics but aren't, because my computer was being a dick and not letting me format correctly, even though i spent like an hour making sure i got it right. but i digress.  
> steph, i just really felt like by the end of it all, this was for you. i really, really hope you like this.

_and i just think  
maybe you and i  
were singing the same song  
all along ___

__The trees in the courtyard are beautiful in the springtime. It’s not as though they aren’t nice year round, but now--they have these little budding pink flowers, and the pink flowers are losing petals to become something else. Dylan can’t quite tell _what_ yet, but he’s sure it’ll be just as pretty as the piles of pink petals everywhere.  
__

__Actually, he doubts that. And he needs to stop being so poetic--he isn’t here to write, he doesn’t think. Not today, at least.  
_ _

__Sometimes he gets caught up in the words inside his head, and sometimes it’s hard for his friends to pull him back out. He  knows it’s annoying, knows it’s exhausting for them to have to pull him out of his own head. He also knows none of them really want to be inside his head either, because it’s sort of a hellish place to be, with the notable exception of Mitch, maybe, and--  
_ _

__“Told you it’d be nice,” Connor says, and sounds way too smug about it.  
_ _

__“Hey, I never said it wouldn’t be,” Dylan replies, putting his hands up. “Why are we here, again?”  
_ _

__“Studying,” Connor says, sounding just this side of exasperated, but the smile he gives Dylan is fond, so. Dylan can work with that.  
_ _

__“Right,” Dylan says, and tries to make it sound like God himself has given Dylan some sort of prophetic revelation, except God hasn’t actually done that, so Dylan sounds half whiny and half sarcastic, which is what he was really going for.  
_ _

__Connor rolls his eyes at him, but any sort of effect he meant to have there is completely lost, yet again, because of the ridiculous smile on his face. Dylan wonders, for a second, if--  
_ _

__But Connor just sits down, pulls out two textbooks, and opens them, because he’s Connor, and that’s what he does. He smiles at Dylan because he smiles at everyone, because Connor chose Dylan, yeah, but Dylan also knows he’s ultimately just another planet caught in the orbit of Connor’s sun.  
_ _

__Connor is--Connor is everything Dylan never knew he wanted, Dylan thinks, as he sits down next to him and pulls out his own books.  
There are petals in Connor’s hair. Dylan wants to pull them out, wants to put his hands in Connor’s hair, wants to see Connor’s soft smile again.  
_ _

__He doesn’t, because Connor’s already pulling out his highlighters, and his notecards, and school is important, Dylan has to remind himself, so he doesn’t get distracted staring at Connor’s hair, or Connor’s mouth, or Connor’s eyes, or Connor’s anything, at all, because they’re studying. They’re just studying.  
_ _

__“Ready?” Connor asks, and his eyes sparkle green in the afternoon sunshine. There’s this little half smile on his face, and Dylan allows himself, just for a second, to think it’s all for him.  
_ _

__“Yeah,” Dylan says, quietly.  
_ _

__Yeah.  
_ _

__***  
_ _

__It’s not Dylan’s best move, essentially telling his entire extended family and their ridiculous expectations to fuck off.  
_ _

__Well, actually, it sort of is. It’s definitely better than the alternative, which was going to Yale or Harvard or Brown for pre-law and then law school, and then joining a law firm and fighting and clawing his way to a partner position.  
_ _

__His family’s plans for him, he’s sure, also included a wife and 2.5 kids and a giant house, but--  
_ _

__But two things.  
_ _

__Dylan’s a poet, for one, and the only thing he’ll ever study in his life is literature, and that’s just that.  
_ _

__For another, Dylan’s pretty fucking gay, and he’d rather cut off his left arm than go back into the closet, and this is just about what he says to his roommate, Mitch Marner, when he meets him for the first time.  
_ _

__Mitch shrugs. “Hey, dude, I’m pretty damn bi myself, so I don’t give a shit.”  
_ _

__“Fantastic,” Dylan declares, and throws himself on top of Mitch’s bed, to which Mitch says, “That’s my bed.”  
_ _

__“Yes,” Dylan says, voice muffled by the pillow his face is currently pressed into.  
_ _

__He can practically see Mitch’s shrug, and when Mitch just kind of lays on top of Dylan, Dylan isn’t surprised, at all.  
_ _

__“You’re bony,” Mitch grumbles, and then says, “But you’re comfortable, too, so don’t you fucking move.”  
_ _

__And just like that, they’re friends, and suddenly, Dylan feels a lot less guilty for essentially disowning his own family and going to a tiny liberal arts college in the middle of God-knows-where, because Mitch being here means he isn’t alone any more.  
_ _

__As it turns out, Mitch is quite the listener, and after their first day of classes, he listens to Dylan go on and on about poetic structure and the importance of eye rhyme and _why don’t more people understand this, Mitchell, it’s important to me_. And Mitch doesn’t even really care about this shit, because he’s here for a degree in linguistics, and already knows like six languages, and he just really, really should not look like he’s listening so intensely to Dylan’s stupid poetry rant, because then Dylan might have to care about him, and he may or may not be ready for that just yet.  
_ _

__So Dylan says, “I’m sorry, I’ll stop,” and then stops, because that, at least, will make Mitch stop looking at him with a sweet little half smile on his face.  
_ _

__“Don’t apologize for loving what you love,” Mitch says, like he knows, very intimately, what it feels like to do that, and Dylan just--okay, fine, Universe, he can care about this one. He can care about his roommate and be his friend and it’ll be fine, it’ll be great, and Dylan won’t get hurt again.  
_ _

__Dylan just says, “Okay,” and it comes out too soft, too vulnerable, too everything Dylan doesn’t want it to be, and Mitch stands up and hugs him, because that’s what Mitch does, Dylan’s learned, in the short five days they’ve known each other.  
_ _

__“You give nice hugs,” Dylan says, because he’s a mess when he remembers how sad he actually is.  
_ _

__“You deserve them,” Mitch says, and that’s--  
_ _

__Yeah, Dylan can care about this one.  
_ _

__***  
_ _

__See, the thing with his family is this: it’s not really all of them.  
_ _

__It’s his dad, a little, but not really, because even though his dad might’ve wanted more for him, and that stings, his dad is also a decent human being, and his dad loves him.  
_ _

__It’s not his mom, like, at all. His mom is the only person who’s ever read all of his poems, and she’s the one who drove him to the library every weekend she had off the summer between his sophomore and junior year of high school, so he could read books of poetry and try to stumble his way through the English language, because up until then, he’d pretty much hated it.  
_ _

__She was the one who’d shown him, actually, that first book of Emily Dickinson poetry--and now, that’s his most prized possession, and he has notes in the columns and it’s almost completely highlighted, and he’s about a thousand percent sure Emily was a lesbian, now--anyways, she’d shown him the poetry and he’d fallen in love with it, somehow, through layers and layers of trained disdain and outright hatred of the English language, which he still blames on years and years of shitty public school education, but whatever.  
_ _

__So, it’s not his mom. She’s wonderful, and supportive, and she loves him more than anything except his brothers, and she’s also the first person he’s ever come out to. Matthew doesn’t count, because Matthew had guessed, and Dylan is still sort of bitter over that, because his little brother had literally figured out he was gay before he had, but, again, whatever.  
_ _

__It’s Ryan, sort of. Ryan has always been the one that was going to follow in their father’s footsteps, and Dylan’s okay with that. It gets Ryan a lot more attention, which is fine, because it also gets Ryan a lot more pressure on his shoulders, and Dylan’s seen Ryan crack more than once under the weight of it all.  
_ _

__And, really, Ryan doesn’t try to be a dick. He doesn’t, honestly.  
_ _

__Just, sometimes--  
_ _

___"It’s fine if you’re gay, Dylan, I just don’t want to hear about it.”_  
_ _

__Yeah, so. It’s Ryan, but only sort of, because Dylan can’t really bring himself to blame Ryan for it all, somehow.  
_ _

__And then sometimes he thinks about Alex, and the smile he always had ready for Dylan, and the way he would pull Dylan close and hug him and let him cry or scream or do whatever he needed to do, and he just--  
_ _

__He can’t think about that, right now.  
_ _

__***  
_ _

__He _really_ meets Connor McDavid the second day of classes, even though he first sees him on the first day.  
_ _

__It’s the one thing he knows he’ll leave out of his rant, when he talks to Mitch later, because he knows Mitch will ask about his day, and he knows he’s dramatic as fuck, so he’ll tell Mitch everything.  
_ _

__He first sees Connor and he thinks, I have got to be dreaming.  
_ _

__Because that’s honestly what Connor McDavid looks like, to him. He’s wearing a hoodie and a plain t-shirt and jeans and converse and a smile like sunshine, and Dylan’s hooked, instantly, and he knows he can’t do anything about it.  
_ _

__Well, that last thing isn’t true, because he tries, genuinely, not to look at Connor throughout the entirety of the first day of his English class. He gives himself one glance, or two, every five minutes, and then cuts himself off and makes himself pay attention. Because he’s a good student like that.  
_ _

__His second day, though.  
_ _

__His second day, Connor walks right up to where Dylan’s sitting, in the third row, and says, “Is anyone sitting here?” and points to the seat next to Dylan.  
_ _

__And Connor’s voice is soft, because of course it is, and tentative, because it’s only their second day of classes, and Dylan still logically knows that Connor is probably a human with human anxieties just like the rest of them.  
_ _

__“Sure,” he says, and manages to keep his voice steady, which gets a little hard because as soon as Connor senses he’s about to say yes, Connor starts to smile, and, just, wow, okay, Dylan didn’t know humans were allowed to be that attractive.  
_ _

__“Connor McDavid,” Connor says, which Dylan already knew because he was paying attention when the professor called roll, and because he’s also actually the worst human alive.  
_ _

__“Dylan Strome,” Dylan says, instead of saying all that, and pulls out his notebook so he doesn’t mess anything up, even though there isn’t really anything to mess up, because Connor’s literally said about ten words to him at this point in time.  
_ _

__Connor settles in next to him, though, and it’s comfortable, and Dylan can’t focus again, even though this’ll probably be his favorite class, because English is his life now, somehow, but Connor McDavid is apparently his kryptonite, so. And, like, what is Dylan supposed to do, because The Cute Guy in his English class is sitting next to him, and he really does not know how this goes.  
_ _

__But then Connor leans over and whispers, “I would be sitting in the front row away, but he talks to himself under his breath when he thinks we’re not listening, and it’s honestly annoying as fuck.”  
_ _

__And Dylan has to choke down a laugh, because he is not in the mood to get in trouble today, and so he covers any sound he makes with a cough. Connor’s smiling, though, hiding it in his hand because he apparently likes to lean into his hand while he works, his elbow propped up on the arm of his chair.  
_ _

__Dylan needs to stop noticing things about Connor, and start noticing things about the powerpoint slide his professor has up on the projector about their first reading assignment.  
_ _

__After, Dylan doesn’t really want to leave, so he slows himself down while he packs up, lets lines of poetry float around in his head and distract him for a few seconds as he tucks his books back into his bag.  
_ _

__Dylan realizes he shouldn’t have worried, though, because Connor doesn’t leave either, just waits for Dylan to pack up before following him out of the classroom.  
_ _

__But Connor’s the one that says, “What are you here for?”  
_ _

__And Dylan’s sort of an asshole, so he says, “For education or in general? Because I’ve really always felt like those are two very different answers, you know, and college is just such a profound experience--”  
_ _

__And Connor’s laughing, because Dylan is ridiculous. He says, “Education, you asshole,” which, did Dylan not just think that about himself.  
_ _

__“Poetry,” he says, quieter, and sometimes he wishes the thing he wants to do was not the same as the thing that makes him most vulnerable to every single other person in the world.  
_ _

__Connor seems to pick up on that, because he just nods.  
_ _

__“You?” Dylan asks, because he’s not--he doesn’t want this to be--weird.  
_ _

__“English Education,” Connor says, and there’s that smile back on his face, except this time it’s proud, and it takes up his whole face in a way that makes Dylan understand immediately how incredible of a teacher Connor’s going to be.  
_ _

__“Why?” Dylan asks, just to hear him talk about it.  
_ _

__Connor does, and then somehow they delve into the very controversial topic of why _The Great Gatsby_ isn’t that great at all, and how students could be reading something much more fulfilling and not horribly written, and Dylan doesn’t really care about fiction literature, not in the all-consuming way he cares about poetry, but this is actually something he has, like, opinions about, and Connor actually agrees on most of them.  
_ _

__“Okay,” Dylan says, very seriously, as they walk into their dorm building, which apparently they share. They are not on the same floor, however, and so Dylan just follows Connor’s lead and throws himself in one of the chairs in the student lounge in the lobby. “So you want to be an English teacher, and you think that Jay Gatsby was an idiot, and you think that the American dream is stupid as shit--” Which is apt, since they’re both Canadian. “--and you think that most of what the public education system teaches these days is out of date and irrelevant, except for _To Kill A Mockingbird_ , which is one of the best books ever written in all of human history, end of story, no need for an epilogue.”  
_ _

__“That’s correct,” Connor says, and he’s grinning.  
_ _

__“Okay,” Dylan says again, and grins back. “So, you’re going to be my new best friend.”  
_ _

__Connor’s smile turns soft, again, and Dylan tells his heart to stop beating so fast.  
_ _

__“Sounds good,” Connor agrees, and that’s--well, that’s a lot more than Dylan hoped for.  
_ _

__***  
_ _

__Except that Dylan shouldn’t have worried, because the next day, Connor finds him on campus again, and they go for lunch, and then two days later, they sit next to each other in English again, and then hang out for the rest of the day and do homework, and when they get bored of the homework, they go find food, and--  
_ _

__And, yeah, Connor McDavid becomes Dylan’s new best friend.  
_ _

__He is, apparently, also Mitch’s friend, because when Mitch gets back to their room one day after his bio lab, he says, “Sup, Connor,” like it’s no big deal that Connor’s laying on his bed, like he’s known Connor all his life.  
_ _

__Maybe Dylan should stop being so dramatic.  
_ _

__Mitch and Connor have one of their math classes together, and Connor hates it and Mitch doesn’t, so Dylan lets them commiserate over that and fades into the background of their conversation, which he thinks he should resent a little more than he actually does.  
_ _

__See, he’s always been kind of good at that, at fading. It’s not like he means to, and it’s not like it was ever a skill Dylan _wanted_ to master, but he sort of has, anyways, and he never really noticed that until his senior year of high school. When his extended family gets together, he fades. When his friends threw parties and got blackout drunk, he would fade. When his brother talks about law school at the dinner table, he fades. It’s just--it’s just something he does, something he’s used to.  
_ _

__Except Connor McDavid looks over at him every few seconds, just to make sure he’s still there, it seems, and instead of Mitch shoving Connor off his bed, he goes over and lays down on Dylan’s--actually, he lays down right on Dylan, kicking his shoes off and pressing his head into Dylan’s side as he tries to convince Connor that statistics isn’t actually that hard.  
_ _

__“I literally could not care less about statistics,” Connor says, deadpan, and it gets Dylan to laugh, because he never really pictured Connor hating something so much.  
_ _

__“It’s useful in real life!” Mitch protests, and Connor meets Dylan’s gaze so they can both roll their eyes at Mitch together, to which Mitch responds by jabbing his fingers into Dylan’s ribcage and saying, “You’re my roommate, you’re supposed to support me, you jerk.”  
_ _

__“I don’t really think that’s how this works,” Dylan says, at the same time Connor says, “Well, he’s my new best friend, so.”  
_ _

__And that’s just--that’s kind of a lot, for someone like Dylan, and he has to take a subtle deep breath and remind himself he’s not going to cry in front of his new friends that he just made that he really likes.  
_ _

__He can just wait until he has a minute alone in the shower, or something, and try to process the fact that they just might like him, too.  
_ _

__“No one cares that stats is useful in real life, Mitchell,” Dylan says instead of thinking about his emotions. “It still sucks major ass.”  
_ _

__“So do you,” Mitch grumbles, and then rolls off of Dylan’s bed and onto the floor, which doesn’t look very fun, but Mitch doesn’t seem bothered by it in the slightest.  
_ _

__Connor’s looking at Dylan again, his eyes just a little narrowed, like he’s trying to figure out something Dylan’s just said that makes no sense, which would be probable, but Dylan hasn’t really said much that’s too confusing, recently. In the past five minutes.  
_ _

__Dylan’s found, in the past few days, that he likes it when Connor looks at him, because Connor has this way of looking at people like they’re the only thing that matters in that moment, but this time, Dylan kind of wants him to stop, because he hasn’t felt this vulnerable since--  
_ _

__He just doesn’t like feeling like someone can see him, even though he knows that’s stupid, and isn’t that the point of having friends?  
_ _

__Mitch is looking between them from his place on the floor, Dylan realizes, as he turns his head to avoid acknowledging Connor’s gaze. Mitch has his eyes narrowed at them like they’re a puzzle to be solved, but as soon as he notices Dylan looking, his expression clears, and he jumps to his feet.  
_ _

__“I want coffee,” Mitch says, at 4:10 on a Thursday afternoon, nowhere close to finals.  
_ _

__“That explains so much,” Connor says, and Dylan laughs.  
_ _

__When he looks at Connor again, Connor’s smiling at him, and Dylan forgets that it would be better for him to look away.  
_ _

__***  
i don’t know  
if i was ever meant to deserve you_ _

__i don’t know  
if you were ever meant to be in my life_ _

__i don’t know  
what it means that you’re here now  
and i don’t know  
what it means that you make me feel like i can breathe_ _

__(i do know  
that i never want you to leave.)  
__

__***  
_ _

__Dylan doesn’t mean to, but he falls into a routine. He wakes up, doesn’t think about Connor, goes to class, doesn’t think about Connor, and then meets up with Connor, somewhere, inevitably.  
_ _

__Actually.  
_ _

__Dylan thinks about Connor every single second of every single day, and he really, really doesn’t mean to. Connor really is his best friend; his stunning, incredible, glowing best friend, and Dylan loves him that way, loves him in that best friend way so much it hurts sometimes.  
_ _

__But, see, the thing is, Dylan also knows you can love someone many different ways at the same time, and that’s where things get complicated.  
_ _

__It’s not like he doesn’t have other friends. He does: he meets Max Domi, who is a sophomore and his RA and is the owner of a service dog, because of his diabetes, and Anthony Duclair, who is also a sophomore and not his RA and is not the owner of a service dog, but who is Max’s best friend, so he might as well be those things anyways. It’s their second year rooming together, and they’re both science majors, so Dylan really doesn’t know how he became friends with them, but they’ve apparently decided to adopt him, in their words, not his.  
_ _

__They’ve also decided to adopt Jakob Chychrun, who has the sharpest cheekbones of anyone Dylan’s ever met and a killer smile, and who rolls his eyes at Dylan every single time Max or Duke says something stupid.  
_ _

__They’re loud and they’re affectionate and they smile too much and Dylan really, really likes them.  
_ _

__The thing is, though--Connor has other friends too, and he brings them around just as often as Dylan brings his around, and they all sort of end up hanging out together, once or twice, and then it’s once or twice a week, and then--  
_ _

__Dylan’s never really had a group of friends like this, before. They’re all different, and they’re all a mess, but they fit, somehow, in the way that Dylan’s always felt like friendship should fit.  
_ _

__Dylan himself almost feels like he doesn’t fit, feels himself fading into the background again, but then someone will draw him back in, and Dylan kind of forgets what it’s like to be forgotten, which is such an incredibly _nice_ realization that Dylan cries for an hour after he realizes.  
_ _

__And he’d feel guilty for that, because he’d accidentally woken Mitch up and once Mitch had realized he was crying, he’d jumped out of his own bed and into Dylan’s, and hugged him tight until he wasn’t crying any more, and never asked him what was wrong, never made him feel like he had to explain--except Dylan’s done that for Mitch, too, a few times over the past few months.  
_ _

__He knows his view of friendship is still a little skewed in his head, but--he’s getting there. He doesn’t like it when Mitch cries, he doesn’t like it when Connor gets so stressed that his hands shake, and he doesn’t like seeing Max sway standing up when he hasn’t checked his blood sugar in a while, and he wants to make those things better, and he knows that’s what it is to care about people, so at least he knows how to do that again. At least he’s still good at that.  
_ _

__The first time Dylan meets Auston Matthews, he’s in the library with Mitch, and he wants to smack Mitch upside the head with the literary resource book he’s holding, because Mitch keeps muttering in Spanish under his breath, and it’s annoying as shit, because Dylan really needs to study and he’s being distracting.  
_ _

__“Please don’t murder Mitch,” Connor says, and throws himself down in the seat next to Dylan, because that’s what Connor does--he just senses when Dylan’s about to do something stupid and shows up out of nowhere to stop him.  
_ _

__Except then _another_ voice says something in Spanish, apparently replying to whatever Mitch had muttered, and it’s not a voice Mitch recognizes, either, apparently, because his head flies up and his eyes widen almost comically, and when Dylan looks up at whoever Connor’s brought with him, he instantly understands why.  
_ _

__“Hi,” Connor’s ridiculously attractive friend says, quietly, looking a little uncomfortable under their stares, and Connor punches Dylan’s arm, because apparently Dylan is the only one with eyes that are staring at this person and Mitch is not literally right next to him.  
_ _

__“This is Auston,” Connor says, and Auston smiles at them, a little tentatively.  
_ _

__“Dylan,” Dylan says, remembering that even though there is an incredibly attractive, Spanish-speaking boy in front of him, he can still speak English and can still be polite and still has to introduce himself.  
_ _

__Auston waves to him, and then focuses on Mitch again. He says, quietly, “You can speak Spanish?”  
_ _

__Mitch closes his mouth, swallows, and nods, eyes still fixed on Auston’s face, because he’s absolutely a loser and Dylan is absolutely not his friend any more.  
_ _

__“I, um--I’m minoring in Spanish and French,” Mitch says, finally, and it’s true, and Mitch is such an overachiever that Dylan wants to scream at him, because he’s also incredibly stressed out all the time, and cries at night sometimes, and Dylan loves him, and doesn’t want to seem him so upset.  
_ _

__But Auston just smiles, and even though it’s small, Dylan can see in his eyes that he’s genuinely excited, which makes Dylan wonder about him. He slides into the seat next to Mitch, who shoots Dylan a look that means _help me, what do I do_ , but Dylan figures he’ll just let this all happen, because it could be really, really good.  
_ _

__Auston says something softly in Spanish, and Mitch says something back, after a minute, and that’s it, Dylan thinks, they’re lost to the world.  
_ _

__“Auston’s Mexican,” Connor says, leaning closer to Dylan. There’s a small smile on his face as he looks at them. “His mom was born there. He was raised speaking English and Spanish, which can get confusing sometimes when we’re studying together, but I think he likes Spanish better, so.”  
_ _

__“So he’s excited,” Dylan says, and that’s honestly really, really sweet.  
_ _

__“Yeah,” Connor says, quietly, and he’s not looking at Mitch and Auston any more. His eyes have always had this--weight to them, and Dylan wonders why, wonders if he can help carry it.  
_ _

__“Connor?” Dylan says, softly, and reaches for his hand. When his fingers touch Connor’s, they both look down, but Connor doesn’t pull away, and Dylan doesn’t really know what any of this means, at all.  
_ _

__Connor gives his fingers a quick squeeze, and then retreats completely, going back to pulling out his books and his highlighters and his notes.  
_ _

__Dylan does the same, and tries not to think about it for the rest of the night.  
_ _

__***  
_ _

__Dylan’s first really bad day comes right before midterms.  
_ _

__He just--his alarm goes off for his 8 am bio lab, and he knows he’s an idiot for taking such an early class, especially bio, but--his alarm goes off and he hits snooze, and then it goes off again and he sits up, and his stomach clenches so hard he almost throws up.  
_ _

__And he’s been going through this long enough to know the difference between sickness and one of his bad days, so he lays back down for a second to reevaluate, a little.  
_ _

__In retrospect, he should’ve seen the crash coming.  
_ _

__He’s got great friends, his grades are actually pretty good, and he loves it here--things are just good, right now, but that doesn’t mean this has stopped. Of course it doesn’t. That just means he can push it all back, a little farther, ignore it a little longer, and sure, maybe that means he’s only hurting himself more, but at least he can feel some sort of happiness, in between it all.  
_ _

__But that’ll just hurt, too, when his friends realize how fucked up he is, and leave, but Dylan--Dylan tries not to think about that.  
_ _

___Alex never left_ , that awful voice inside his head whispers, and Dylan doesn’t even try to quiet it, this time, because it’s right. Dylan hates himself, because it’s right.  
_ _

__He reaches over and turns his alarm off completely, because his head is fuzzy and his arms feel strangely heavy, and so he knows it wouldn’t be any use to get up for class anyways. A glance at Mitch’s bed tells Dylan he’s gone already, maybe working out with Auston or meeting Connor for an early coffee, or something. It doesn’t matter--he’s not here, and that’s good, because Dylan can’t handle anyone telling him to do what’s best for himself, right now.  
_ _

__He closes his eyes, tries to go back to sleep. And he does, but it’s fitful, and his whole body sort of hurts in a way that isn’t quite physical. Anxiety dreams flash behind his eyelids and he hates that, too, so he gives up on sleep for a while, which means he’s awake when Mitch walks in, two or three hours later.  
_ _

__Or, at least--he thinks two or three. Time is sort of weird for him, right now.  
_ _

__Mitch is alone, which is a small blessing but one Dylan is grateful for, nonetheless.  
_ _

__“Dyls?” Mitch’s voice is soft but too loud, for Dylan, and he shifts in bed so that he can look at Mitch.  
_ _

__“Yeah,” he whispers, his voice rasping a little.  
_ _

__“Willy said you weren’t in bio,” Mitch says, and that should make Dylan happy, if a little shocked. William Nylander is his lab partner, and they’re friends in the way that people who have a few classes together are, but Dylan knows that Willy and Mitch don’t see each other at all today, really, because Dylan meets up with Mitch after bio to go for a late breakfast, usually. Which means Willy went out of his way to go find Mitch, or at least cared enough to text him, which is really, really nice of him, Dylan just--can’t find it in himself to care.  
_ _

__“Yeah,” he repeats, and turns his head back into his pillow. He hears Mitch come closer, and then feels him sit down on the edge of Dylan’s bed.  
_ _

__“Is something wrong?” Mitch’s voice is soft enough, now, that Dylan feels like he might cry, and that maybe wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world.  
_ _

__“I don’t--” He cuts himself off, because there is, of course there is, but he can’t get the words out, right now, and he doesn’t know how to explain.  
_ _

__Mitch says, “Okay, Dyls,” and something in his voice does bring tears to Dylan’s eyes, this time. Mitch nudges him into a sitting position, and when Dylan makes a noise of protest, Mitch shushes him, and then slips into bed with Dylan and pulls Dylan close, laying Dylan’s head down on his chest and rubbing his back, gently.  
_ _

__And that’s it, really, for Dylan. He grips Mitch’s shirt with his fingers and cries, because Mitch should be leaving him right now, to give him space or because he doesn’t want to deal with Dylan’s issues or because he doesn’t really care at all, but Mitch isn’t leaving. He’s climbed into bed with Dylan and is holding him close, running his hands through Dylan’s hair and whispering little nonsense phrases in his ear.  
_ _

__Dylan can’t look at Mitch at all when he says, “I tried to kill myself last year, and sometimes, I really, really wish I had.”  
_ _

__***  
_ _

__And, see, the thing with his family is also this: it _is_ really all of them.  
_ _

__It’s at his graduation party when his grandfather says, “Dylan, my boy! Where do you plan to go for law school in a few years?”  
_ _

__To which Dylan had replied, very eloquently, “Um.”  
_ _

__And he can feel his mother’s eyes on them, and wants to meet them and silently beg for help, but she’s never been strong enough to stand up to her father-in-law, so Dylan knows he’s probably completely on his own.  
_ _

__“Well?” his grandfather prompts, and Dylan was just. So tired.  
_ _

__“I’m not going to law school,” he says to the man who was the first generation of three to partner in a law firm. Ryan hasn’t partnered yet, but he’s working his way up, and he’ll really have a shot, in a few years.  
_ _

__“I’m sorry?” And the whole kitchen has suddenly gone dead silent. Somehow, Dylan meets Ryan’s eyes, and gets no support. _You’ve made this bed_ , Ryan’s face pretty much says, _so lie in it_.  
_ _

__“I’m going to study poetry,” he says, and it feels like all of the oxygen has been sucked out of the room. “And I’m going to minor in sociology, and hopefully have something published by the time I graduate. I sort of want to keep going to school and become a professor, maybe, if it seems like something I’d like doing, but if not, I have other options.”  
_ _

__Dylan has never said these words out loud to anyone who is not his mother or Alex. And he wishes Alex were here, because Alex would be someone to lean on, and because Alex would do everything he could to defend Dylan through this.  
_ _

__Because his grandfather explodes, and Dylan’s heard these things a million times. Poetry is useless, poetry is nothing, poetry is not a real major, sociology will get him nowhere in life, he needs to have a better plan than that, and Dylan is so, so sick of this.  
_ _

__He wonders why it’s so horrible that he should love something and pursue it. He wonders why it’s so horrible that he should want to enjoy his life, should want to spend his days doing something he loves instead of something he does just to pay the bills, because to Dylan, that isn’t quite really living.  
_ _

__“Who knows,” his grandfather sneers, “maybe you’ll finally meet a nice girl, with your poetry major.”  
_ _

__Dylan’s already gone this far, he figures. Might as well put the final nail in his coffin.  
    _ _

__“That might be an issue,” he says, looking down to his feet, “considering that I don’t like girls.”  
_ _

__And if he thought he couldn’t breathe before, he’s certainly suffocating now, because it’s his _grandmother_ who puts a hand on his forehead like she’s checking his temperature and asks his mother if she’s taken him to a doctor, lately, because surely there must be something wrong, for him to be saying all of this nonsense so out of the blue.  
_ _

__His mother says, “There is nothing wrong with my son,” and it’s support, yes, but it’s weak, and it is not, not, not enough.  
_ _

__Because as soon as the rest of his family leaves, it’s his father who explodes, screaming at him about how he’s embarrassed him, how he’s embarrassed all of them, how he should be _ashamed_ of himself, and Dylan can’t. He just can’t.  
_ _

__He calls Alex, when it’s over, and lets him think he’s able to calm Dylan down from a panic attack. Dylan never tells him what’s wrong, just lets Alex assume it’s his family again, lets Alex tell him things he already knows, objectively, are true, as he lays in his bed and tries to think of a reason good enough to stay alive.  
_ _

__Except that he can’t, and so he takes one big deep breath and says, “Brinksy?”  
_ _

__“Yeah?” Alex answers, his voice soft and Dylan has one regret about this, he thinks, and it’s that this will break Alex’s heart.  
_ _

__“I love you,” Dylan says, and god, it’s so true. “You’re the best person I’ve ever met. I’m so glad you’re my best friend.”  
_ _

__“I love you, too, Dyls,” Alex says, voice happy and fond, because he loves it when Dylan voices his affection, even though it usually comes right on the tails of a panic attack or depressive episode.  
_ _

__Dylan draws their call out, for a few minutes longer than he normally would, and tells Alex he loves him again before he hangs up.  
_ _

__Alex’s soft, “Love you, too, Dyls,” is enough to keep Dylan in his bed for a few more minutes, enough to make him cry actual, real tears for the first time in months, enough to actually almost make him regret.  
_ _

__He hates that it isn’t enough to stop him from downing half a bottle of vodka, getting into his car, and going straight for the highway.  
_ _

__***  
_ _

__Mitch cries, too, when Dylan tells him. Cries, and holds Dylan so, so close, and somehow Dylan feels like he’s going to shatter under it, the weight of how much Mitch must love him, to keep holding him now.  
_ _

__“I’m sorry,” Mitch says, and that is something Dylan never wanted to hear, those words from Mitch’s mouth and Mitch’s voice sounding so, so heartbroken. “I’m sorry that happened and I’m sorry you didn’t feel like you could talk to me before now--”  
_ _

__“Mitch, that isn’t--”  
_ _

__“I’m not done, Dyls,” Mitch says, and Dylan quiets obediently. Mitch takes Dylan’s face in his hands, and says, “But I am not sorry you failed. I am not sorry you’re here, and I am not sorry you are my friend.”  
_ _

__Dylan stares at him. “You’re not going to--I mean, you still want to be my friend?”  
_ _

__Mitch stares at him right back, incredulous. “Of fucking course, Dylan. God, did you not have friends in high school?”  
_ _

__Mitch seems to want to take the words back as soon as he says them, but Dylan says, anyways, “One. One that stayed, after.”  
_ _

__“Alex?” Mitch asks.  
_ _

__“Yeah,” Dylan says, and hates himself so, so much.  
_ _

__Mitch seems to understand that there’s more there, but Dylan can’t talk about that yet, he doesn’t think.  
_ _

__“Do you want me to go get Connor?” Mitch asks, gently. “He should be getting out of class soon.”  
_ _

__“Yes, please,” Dylan says, but then Mitch starts to get up, and Dylan’s hand shoots out and grabs his wrist, and Mitch says, “Okay, Dyls. I’ll call him, I won’t leave. Give me a minute.”  
_ _

__He wrestles his phone out of his pocket and calls Connor, telling him to get his ass to their dorm but not much else.  
_ _

__“Don’t tell him,” Dylan whispers. “He can’t--he can’t know.”  
_ _

__“He wouldn’t leave, Dyls,” Mitch said, and cards a hand through Dylan’s hair. “He loves you, too.”  
_ _

__“I know,” Dylan says, and there are tears in his eyes, and he says, “I’m in love with him,” because it’s true, and he’s tired of not saying it, because Connor deserves to have it said, to have Dylan confront it, at least, and Dylan thinks if he isn’t going to actually ever tell Connor, he might as well admit it to himself, and why not Mitch, too.  
_ _

__Except Mitch just looks at him, sadly, and says, “I know.”  
_ _

__And then he holds Dylan close until Connor gets to their dorm and knocks, quiet in the way that he does, but still the loudest sound Dylan’s heard all day.  
_ _

__Mitch gets up to answer the door because he knows Dylan can’t, and even though Dylan misses him as soon as he leaves, he’s still grateful.  
_ _

__Connor pushes past Mitch almost immediately, and when Dylan sees the worry on his face, he realizes he hasn’t touched his phone all day. Connor must’ve texted him a few times, just little things throughout the morning, and Dylan always texts him back, but he didn’t today, and so of course Connor must be worried.  
_ _

__And then Connor’s right in front of Dylan, and he can see the tear tracks on Dylan’s face and the redness of his eyes, and Dylan can see the pain in Connor’s expression at the sight of him like this, and he has to look away, because he isn’t worth that. He isn’t worth Connor hurting over, he isn’t worth breaking Connor’s heart, if only a little, and only temporarily. He just isn’t.  
_ _

__“Dylan, what--”  
_ _

__“Please don’t ask,” Dylan interrupts, and it just makes him hate himself more, but he can’t talk about it again. It’s just all so much right now, and he can’t do it again.  
_ _

__Connor sits down next to Dylan and pulls him close with one arm, and then, because he has to know Dylan is unsure of where to go from there, pulls Dylan’s arms around his waist, and presses his lips to Dylan’s hair, and Dylan’s heart cracks.  
_ _

___Oh_ , he thinks, and he remembers why he tried not to think about it. Remembers that this--that admitting it to himself and acknowledging how he feels--he remembers that it hurts, because suddenly he knows he wants this thing and he really, really cannot have it.  
_ _

__Dylan sighs, and even he knows how awful and broken it sounds. Connor holds him tighter, pulls him closer, and that helps, Dylan thinks. It hurts, but it helps more than anything, and Dylan knows he’s been through worse. He thinks he can handle this, handle loving someone like this.  
_ _

__After a while, Connor says, “Do you think you can get up now?”  
_ _

__“I--probably,” Dylan says, because his limbs don’t feel so heavy, now.  
_ _

__“Good,” Connor says, and gets to his feet. “Follow me?”  
_ _

__Dylan stands up next to Connor, and Connor has to steady him a little, but that’s okay, Dylan thinks.  
_ _

__“Mitch?” Connor says, looking past Dylan to see their friend.  
_ _

__“I’ll let you guys do what you need to do, whatever it is,” Mitch says, and Dylan’s sort of grateful to him, for knowing.  
_ _

__“Okay,” Connor says, and pushes Dylan gently towards the door. When they’re in the hallway, he tugs Dylan close again and rests a hand on the small of his back. Dylan tries not to think about what they’ll look like, to anyone who sees them.  
_ _

__Connor takes him to Max and Duke’s room, and it’s Max who answers the door.  
_ _

__“Hey,” he says, looking a little surprised to see them. “What’s up? Everything okay?”  
_ _

__“Yeah, we’re fine,” Connor says, with a smile. “Just wanted to see Orion. Stress, you know?”  
_ _

__Max’s face clears, and he looks markedly less concerned. “I understand,” he says, and lets them in. Duke is laying on the bed that Dylan knows for certain is Max’s, shirtless, and Orion is curled up next to him, but Max’s dog lifts his head, stands, and stretches when he sees them. He goes right to Dylan, like he knows something’s wrong.  
_ _

__“Hey, boy,” Dylan murmurs, and kneels down in front of the dog, scratching behind Orion’s ears and then running his hands over his shoulders. Orion licks his face, just a little, which Dylan wouldn’t normally let him do, but this time he does, because it’s adorable and Dylan is in the mood for happy things.  
_ _

__Max seems to understand the point of this visit, and just settles down in his bed next to Duke, who wraps an arm around him, which only strengthens Dylan’s previous suspicions about the two of them.  
_ _

__After they leave, Connor says, “I had this dog when I was a kid, and she always seemed to know when I was sad, so I thought maybe Orion would know, too.” Connor hesitates, a little, and then continues, “I thought maybe he could help you. Dogs are better than people, sometimes.”  
_ _

__Dylan has to swallow a few times before he says, “Yeah, Davo, you’re right. Thanks, you know, for all of this.”  
_ _

__Connor looks at him, and does he always seem to glow like that?  
_ _

__“You’re welcome, Dyls,” he says. “Of course you’re welcome.”  
_ _

__And then he wraps his arm around Dylan, and Dylan starts to rethink his theory that he can handle his feelings.  
_ _

__***  
_ _

__Dylan falls in love with Connor with both eyes wide open.  
_ _

__He knows, in the back of his mind, that it’s happening. There’s no big realization moment, and he’s the first one waiting for himself to just say it, to just own up to it, because sometimes, it’s so, so blatantly obvious, like--  
_ _

__When Connor meets him outside of his 8 am lab with his favorite coffee, and Dylan’s one of the worst people alive because he is so incredibly extra when he orders or even makes coffee, and he knows that, but here Connor is, with the biggest coffee cup he could find in his hand, filled with Dylan’s favorite coffee.  
_ _

__And when Connor edited his paper for literature, and gave it back to him with, like, three whole days to spare, and Dylan had actually, literally shrieked, in the middle of the library, and like three seniors had yelled at him in whisper voices, but he’d ignored them and then actually, literally jumped on Connor and wrapped his legs around Connor’s waist, because how else do you display gratitude, right?  
_ _

__And Dylan had whispered, “Thank you so much, Davo,” into Connor’s ear, because god _damn_ that paper had been stressful to write, and it was a huge part of his grade for the semester, so.  
_ _

__“Davo?” Connor had said, and Dylan had pulled back, just a little.  
_ _

__“Yeah,” he’d said. “McDavid, Davo. Easier.”  
_ _

__Connor had tilted his head to the side, just a little, and said, “Yeah, okay, Stromer. That’s fine.”  
_ _

__Dylan’s eyes had lit up, he’s sure, because Connor had giggled at him.  
_ _

__“Sometimes,” Connor had said, “you look like the human version of an exclamation point.”  
_ _

__“Okay?” Dylan had said, very aware that Connor had not yet put him down.  
_ _

__“It’s adorable,” Connor had clarified, and Dylan had grinned, and basically worn heart eyes for the next week. Mitch had called him out on it, and Dylan isn’t really sure why he was surprised Mitch figured it out.  
_ _

__And then--and then sometimes Connor gets stressed, and Dylan can’t stand that, hates seeing it, but he’s always the one Connor calls when he can’t breathe, when he can’t think, when he can’t stand to be alone, because his roommate is almost never home.  
_ _

__Dylan always goes, because it’s Connor, and he’d probably follow Connor anywhere. Sometimes, when Connor falls asleep with his head in Dylan’s lap, Dylan will grab the nearest pen and write lines of poetry down his own arm, so he doesn’t forget them when he inevitably falls asleep.  
_ _

__The poetry is always really, really good, and it’s also always really, really sappy, and Dylan knows he’s in love just from the way he writes the words on his skin. He thinks he could write a poem that could wrap around the world, if it was about Connor.  
_ _

__So, that’s sort of it, really. He doesn’t fall so much as jump, so much as throw himself off the edge of the proverbial cliff, because why not, why just delay the inevitable? Dylan’s heart was always going to be Connor’s anyways.  
_ _

__And there are some days, some moments, when Dylan thinks maybe. Sometimes Connor grabs his hand and squeezes, hard, when he’s excited or scared or just wants a hand to hold, and Dylan’s whole heart lights up.  
_ _

__Sometimes, Connor finds him in his dorm, alone, because Mitch went to a party without him, because sometimes Dylan can’t handle that shit, not after his high school years. And so Connor will come to him, instead of staying at whoever’s dorm or frat house and getting drunk and relaxing like he deserves. Connor will come to him and lean against Dylan’s headboard and sit Dylan between his legs and watch hockey with him, or Parks and Rec, or even sometimes a Disney movie, if they’re both feeling a little sentimental.  
_ _

__And sometimes, at the end of those nights, Connor will press a long kiss to Dylan’s forehead, and whisper, “I love you, Stromer,” against his forehead, and Dylan loves him, loves him, loves him, loves him so much he can’t breathe with it.  
_ _

__But then, in a week or so, Connor will laugh at something he says, and Dylan will hope, and then Connor will say, “God, I’m so glad you’re my best friend, Dyls.”  
_ _

__And the illusion is shattered, and his heart is broken, yet again, because Dylan doesn’t know how to stop hoping.  
_ _

__***  
_ _

__He follows Mitch to the frat party because Connor wants to go, too, and Chych will be there, and there’s also a good chance that Max and Duke will be there, too, because they tend to follow Chych and Dylan around when they have nothing better to do. Which is pretty much always.  
_ _

__He’s there for about two seconds before someone presses a solo cup into his hand, and the beer that’s in it is mediocre at best, but it’s alcohol, and he’s mostly here to get drunk, so it works.  
_ _

__Someone brought vodka, Dylan finds out about two more seconds later, and after his third shot in under an hour, Connor, who’s been watching Dylan carefully and sipping from the same cup since they got here, leans over and says, “You good, Dyls?”  
_ _

__The nickname brings Dylan back to reality, a little, brings him back to the warmth of Connor’s hand on his arm and Connor standing right next to him.  
_ _

__“Yep,” he says, and doesn’t even slur the word. “‘M just--just a little drunk.”  
_ _

__Well. There goes that thing about slurring his words.  
_ _

__“I see that,” Connor says, and when Dylan looks at him, he’s fighting a laugh, so Dylan can’t be too drunk yet. “Do you maybe wanna slow down a bit?”  
_ _

__Dylan’s head lists to the side to rest on Connor’s shoulder, and, okay, that isn’t because he’s a little tipsy, that’s because he just wants to. “Hmmm,” Dylan says. “Don’t think so. You’ve got my back.”  
_ _

__And maybe that’s a little unfair, because Connor’s here to have fun, too, but Connor just laughs again and, shaking his head, says, “Yeah, Dyls. I do,” and Dylan doesn’t even try to pick up on any sort of double meaning in those words, because now is not the time for that.  
_ _

__It’s around midnight when Chych finds him and presses close, making Dylan grin at him.  
_ _

__“You’re drunk,” Jake whispers to him, and it makes Dylan giggle, because yeah, he is. Connor was next to him about two seconds ago, but he isn’t any more, and part of Dylan wonders where he went, but another part of Dylan has Jakob Chychrun pressed against him, and that isn’t something that happens every day, so he focuses on that.  
_ _

__Jake’s a good kisser, which he is reminded of about five minutes later, pressed against the wall of some empty room in the house. Nothing has started spinning yet, and he still has full vision, and so even though he stumbles a little bit when he walks, he’s pretty sure he’s sober enough for this. And it’s not like this hasn’t happened before, anyways.  
_ _

__“Dylan,” Jake groans, as Dylan kisses his neck, and Dylan just thinks, _You deserve better than this._  
_ _

__Except Jake pushes away from him, and Dylan might’ve said that out loud. “You’re drunk,” Jake says, looking a little incredulous, “and so am I. And we’re at a frat party. This isn’t really anything, Stromer.”  
_ _

__But something in his voice is off, and Dylan hurts with it.  
_ _

__“You’re my friend, Chych,” Dylan says, simply, and hopes that explains everything, because to him, it does.  
_ _

__And it’s not--it’s not a rejection, romantically, it’s Dylan saying, you are my friend, and that is important, and I think we both deserve more than desperate kisses in a back room while we imagine we’re kissing someone else.  
_ _

__Because god, when Dylan kisses Chych, all he can see is Connor’s face behind his eyelids, Connor’s voice in his ear, and Dylan knows that’s awful, knows it’s one of the worst things he’s ever done, and that Chych deserves much, much more than this.  
_ _

__Chych backs off even more, but his eyes are shining, and so Dylan just waits for him to talk. After a minute, Jake says, “His name is Clayton.”  
_ _

__Dylan just nods.  
_ _

__“We dated a little, in high school, and then he left, and I left, and we just--it all sort of fell apart,” Jake says, and he sounds so hurt and so tired and so punched out that Dylan wants to cry, too.  
_ _

__“I’m sorry,” Dylan offers, and it’s not enough.  
_ _

__“Yeah,” Jake whispers, and then clears his throat. “I’m the one who--he didn’t want--”  
_ _

__“I get it,” Dylan whispers, because it wasn’t the same, what he did, but leaving someone you still love is--it’s the same feeling. “It’s Connor,” he offers, knowing Jake will get it.  
_ _

__Jake just nods, and looks a little sadder, and that’s it, Dylan doesn’t want this, any more. He hasn’t had anything to drink in a while, because he’d told Connor he wouldn’t slow down but he knows Connor’s worried about him, and so he did, and now he’s less drunk, and he can’t deal with real life human emotions right now.  
_ _

__So he stutters out, “I’m sorry, Jake, I just--”  
_ _

__He presses a quick kiss to Jake’s cheek because Jake looks like he needs it, even though he also looks like he understands, and pushes his way out of the room.  
_ _

__The relief on Connor’s face when Dylan finds him again is so plain Dylan doesn’t even try to convince himself that he’s imagined it. Connor opens his mouth to say something, but Dylan interrupts him before he can start, and says, “Can we go home? Please?”  
_ _

__And there are tears in his eyes, he thinks, because Connor is the only person he wants, right now, even though Connor is also the person he wants to wants to be as far away from as possible, and that hurts, it hurts so much.  
_ _

__“Of course, Dyls,” Connor says, and sweeps a hand over Dylan’s face, like he’s tucking hair behind Dylan’s ear, and Dylan just--breaks. He pulls Connor close and hugs him, tight, and tries not to cry into his shirt, which makes his whole body tremble pretty violently, and he’s also pretty sure he’s scaring Connor, a little, because Connor’s whispering, “Dylan, fuck, okay, Dylan, let’s go,” into his ear, and herding him out the door.  
_ _

__“I’m sorry,” Dylan gasps, when they’re outside and the cool air of the night hits his cheeks, and he realizes he is crying, crazy enough.  
_ _

__“God, Dylan,” Connor says, and when Dylan looks at him, he’s crying, too. “You--I love you, so much, and I want to help you, and god, this is so shitty, but I wish I could do _something_ to show you you can trust me with all the shit you’re feeling, and everything that’s happened, and I just--” He scrubs a hand over his face, and Dylan’s pretty sure his heart is really breaking, this time. “I just want you to be okay.”  
_ _

__Dylan wants to kiss him. Wants to kiss him so bad, because Connor does love him, and he loves Connor so much, but god, does he ever know how differently they love each other.  
_ _

__So instead, he says, “I’m not, Con. I’m not okay, and I don’t know if you--” He stops, because if he says that out loud, he has to stop believing Connor is what will save him, and he has to finally save himself, and that--he doesn’t know if he’s ready, for that. “Take me home, Connor,” Dylan says instead, and it’s a plea, and they both know it.  
_ _

__“Okay, Dyls,” Connor says, and sounds half defeated and half exhausted, though Dylan’s starting to think those two words are synonyms, at this point.  
_ _

__It takes them twenty minutes to get home, and Dylan stops crying about halfway through, and he’s pretty sure that’s when Connor stops crying, as well, and so Dylan reaches over and grabs his hand, because--well. Because.  
_ _

__Connor stays while Dylan changes, and stays while he washes his face and brushes his teeth, and stays until Dylan is in bed. Dylan doesn’t want to be the one to suggest that Connor leave.  
_ _

__“Goodnight, Dyls,” Connor whispers, and leans over and kisses Dylan’s forehead, and it’s like when his mom used to tuck him into bed when he was a kid, but it also really, really isn’t.  
_ _

__“Goodnight,” Dylan wants to whisper back, but he doesn’t think he does, because his eyes are already falling shut.  
_ _

__When he wakes up, there’s a glass of water and some painkillers on his nightstand, and he doesn’t really have too much of a headache yet, but he takes the meds and downs the water to be proactive, and because he knows Connor left them for him.  
_ _

__He stares down at his phone for a long, long time before he finds the strength to call Alex’s number.  
_ _

__Alex picks up on the second ring, and his voice is clear and strong when he says, “Hello?”  
_ _

__Dylan swallows hard. He does not deserve this. Does not deserve to hear even the sound of Alex’s voice.  
_ _

__“Hey, Brinksy,” he says, and it’s not enough.  
_ _

__There’s silence for a long time, and Dylan wonders how he could ever know what to say.  
_ _

__Alex says, in a voice that is shattering in its quietness, “Why didn’t you call?”  
_ _

__“I…” Dylan trails off. _Because I’m a piece of shit. Because I didn’t know how to live any more. Because I loved you too much, and it still wasn’t enough._  
_ _

__“I waited,” Alex says, voice stronger, more angry. “I waited for you, _by your literal bedside_. And then they said you didn’t want to see me, and it was fine, because I knew you were going through a lot, but then they didn’t let your mom in, either, and I thought--I thought maybe you were doing something like this, maybe you would finally cut all of us off and wallow in your misery alone. And then I felt guilty for that, because you were my best friend and I loved you, and you’d just tried to kill yourself--but then, after a few months, I stopped feeling guilty, and I _hated_ you. Because you were what I had, Dylan. You were my best friend, and you left, and it wasn’t just that you were graduating and I still have this year left, it’s that you didn’t call, at all. You tried to kill yourself, and you told me you loved me before you did it, and then I didn’t hear your voice again until now, except for your voicemail, until I guess you got tired of listening to my messages and switched numbers, and went to college, and disappeared off the face of the planet.”  
_ _

__Dylan hates himself so, so much.  
_ _

__“When I told you I loved you, that night,” Dylan says, and he sounds small. “It was true, and it still is true, and god, Alex, I am so sorry. You deserve more, and you deserve better, and you can scream at me if you want, and you can block my number in your phone, but I just--you deserved better than what I did, and you deserve better than me. I found--there are some people here, that I found, and they--just--” He sighs, and his heart feels so, so heavy. “I hope you’re happy, Alex,” he whispers. “And I hope you found people who really, really love you, because you deserve that more than almost anyone else I’ve ever met. I’m sorry I left, because you deserved an explanation, and you deserved to know why you were the last person I called. And I’m sorry I left because I know it hurt you, and I was too selfish to care about that when I did it.”  
_ _

__“I miss you so much,” Alex whispers, after a minute, and Dylan realizes he’s using present tense.  
_ _

__“You…” That’s something Dylan can’t comprehend, that Alex still misses him.  
_ _

__Alex sounds so helpless when he says, “You were my best friend, Dyls. For most of my life. How was I supposed to stop missing that?”  
_ _

__And, yeah, that’s exactly how Dylan’s been feeling, exactly what Dylan couldn’t figure out, before meeting and loving Mitch and Connor. He couldn’t think of that night without thinking of Alex, and how he hurt Alex, how he left Alex, and he couldn’t think of Alex without thinking of the weekends spent in Dylan’s basement, learning to play pool, or rec hockey practice after school, or learning to cook together the summer in between Dylan’s junior and Alex’s sophomore year. He couldn’t think of Alex without remembering how much he missed him, until Dylan realized--  
_ _

__He misses Alex because he still loves him. Because Alex still holds a piece of his heart, and Alex will always, always be his first best friend. And maybe he doesn’t deserve anything more than just the acknowledgement of their history and Alex getting closure, but Dylan does still love him, for whatever that’s worth, now.  
_ _

__“I don’t know,” Dylan whispers. “I’m sorry.”  
_ _

__“Stop apologizing,” Alex snaps, suddenly, and then sighs. “I want to be your best friend again, but I have no idea where to go from here.”  
_ _

__“Me neither,” Dylan whispers, and blinks tears out of his eyes, because he didn’t think he’d ever get this chance again.  
_ _

__“I forgive you, I think,” Alex whispers, and Dylan can’t even imagine how hard that must be for him to say.  
_ _

__“Just because I--because I was--that doesn’t make it right, what I did,” Dylan says, because it’s true, and it needs to be said.  
_ _

__He can practically see Alex’s shrug. “I know,” Alex says. “I’ve had a lot of months to think about this. I have rules, though.”  
_ _

__“Anything,” Dylan says.  
_ _

__“Don’t leave again,” is the first thing Alex says. “Weekly Skype sessions, at least, so you can’t. You’re on probation for a long fucking time, Stromer.”  
_ _

__“Okay,” Dylan says, because those rules are absolutely acceptable.  
_ _

__“And you let me meet these people of yours,” Alex says. “Oh, and you come home for Thanksgiving.”  
_ _

__Which--that last one, he wasn’t expecting. He isn’t sure he’s ready for that, so he says, “I can’t go _home_ home.”  
_ _

__“You can stay with me,” Alex says, quietly. “My mom will say yes. She’s missed you, too.”  
_ _

__That’s strange, knowing someone who isn’t Alex missed him. It makes sense, though--Mrs. Debrincat was always close to Alex, and Dylan by proxy.  
_ _

__“Okay,” Dylan repeats, in a whisper this time.  
_ _

__“I have to go, Dyls,” Alex says, quietly. “I--We can talk tomorrow?”  
_ _

__“Yes,” Dylan says. “I have class at ten, but I should be free around two. Skype?”  
_ _

__“Yes please,” Alex says, and Dylan can hear his voice brighten. “See you then, Dyls.”  
_ _

__“‘Bye,” Dylan whispers, and waits on the phone until Alex hangs up.  
_ _

__Dylan takes a deep, shuddering breath, and then calls Connor, because he needs to hear his voice.  
_ _

__***  
_ _

__Mitch and Auston start dating a week before spring break, and honestly, it’s the cutest shit Dylan’s ever seen. Mitch isn’t happy all the time, not by a long shot, and saying that one person makes another completely happy still makes Dylan a little uncomfortable, but--Mitch smiles more, now, and once he got back to the dorm after a study date with Auston and cried because he was so happy, and honestly, it just makes Dylan happy that he’s happy.  
_ _

__Auston’s around more, too, and he’s so calm and solid of a presence that even Dylan feels a little better just being around him, and it makes Dylan understand just how well he and Mitch work.  
_ _

__It’s really, really nice to see them together, but it makes him a little sad, too, because he sees them and knows it’s what he can’t have with Connor. He feels awful about feeling that way, too, and when Mitch asks him about it, Dylan just tells him the truth, that he’s happy for Mitch beyond what words can say, and a lie, that it absolutely doesn’t bother him, what kind of a dick do you think I am, Mitchell?  
_ _

__But he talks to Alex about it, over facetime, and he still can’t believe he gets to have that back.  
_ _

__Once, Alex calls when Connor’s over, studying, and Dylan answers, because if he hated not answering a call from Alex before his attempt, which he did, he hates it even more now. And then they spend almost two hours talking, and Dylan can see Connor warm to Alex immediately, likely because Alex looks so stressed he’s about to cry and so exhausted he’s about to pass out, and Connor is, if anything in the world, caring and kind.  
_ _

__When Alex deflects, though, Connor listens, and starts telling Alex about the time Dylan made Mitch laugh so hard milk came out of his nose, and when he’s done, Alex tells Connor about the time they went sledding down this hill on the outskirts of Mississauga and Dylan fractured his wrist. They just keep going like that, and at one point Connor laughs so hard he cries, and Dylan is so in love with him.  
_ _

__When Connor leaves, Alex says, “I like him. And I know you’re in love with him.”  
_ _

__Dylan doesn’t even try to argue.  
_ _

__It’s an all-the-time feeling, that love, but sometimes it’s just so clear, to Dylan, like when Connor smiles at him from across his bed over a textbook, or when he talks about why he wants to be a teacher, or when that crease in his eyebrows appears when he’s frustrated with something and determined to figure it out.  
_ _

__But--it’s been months since Dylan started talking to Alex again, since he broke down in front of Mitch and told him everything, and since he started actually taking advantage of the free counselling offered at the health center. Dylan isn’t there yet, wherever there may be, but he does care about himself, now, and it’s so, so nice.  
_ _

__It’s just.  
_ _

__It’s Mitch who says it first.  
_ _

__“I know you might not want to hear this from me,” he says, quietly, when he catches Dylan staring off into space for the fifth time while they’re trying to study in their room together. “I know that, like, I’m with Auston now, so this has less legitimacy, or something like that, but--that’s your Connor face. And you’re trying so hard to help yourself, and I just think, that maybe--”  
_ _

__“I need to let this go,” Dylan says, because he’s known for a few weeks now that he does. It’s pointless, this pining, and he might be in love with Connor, but he’s starting to fall in love with himself, too, and that’s more important, right now.  
_ _

__Especially because he and Connor are never going to be anything. And _that’s_ the issue. Dylan thinks his love for Connor would help him grow even more, if it wasn’t quiet and timid and unrequited, but it is all those things, and so here he is, hurting because of something he’s pretty sure could be so, so beautiful.  
_ _

__“Yeah,” Mitch says, in the quietest voice Dylan has ever heard come out of his mouth.  
_ _

__Dylan leans over to him and presses a kiss to his forehead. “You’re my best friend,” he whispers, when Mitch pulls him into a hug. “Thank you.”  
_ _

__***  
_ _

__Connor asks him to hang out and study together all of about fifteen minutes later, but Dylan can’t. Not right now. He tells Connor they can meet up tomorrow and spends the night with Mitch, holed up in their dorm, marathoning romcoms. Dylan has never appreciated _Legally Blonde_ more.  
_ _

__He gives himself twenty-four hours, starting from the time he looks at the clock and it’s midnight. Twenty-four hours, to keep the silent offer of his heart open to Connor, to feel heat unfurl in his stomach when Connor smiles, to want to hold his hand and kiss his mouth.  
_ _

__One last twenty-four hours to love Connor, and then he’s done. He’s not an idiot, and he knows it’ll take a long, long time to be really over this, but it’s better to try now than to keep giving himself to someone who doesn’t even know he’s offering anything.  
_ _

__They meet in the courtyard, and Dylan sees the beautiful blossoms on the trees and thinks that Connor is even more so, and sometimes Connor laughs while they study, and Dylan thinks that it’s the most beautiful sound in the world.  
_ _

__Connor drops him off at his dorm, after, his eyes bright and face flushed, and Dylan thinks _maybe_ , but all Connor does is squeeze his arm and say, “See you, Dyls,” in the quiet but strong way of his, and it makes Dylan _ache_.  
_ _

__He has no clue. _No clue_ how he is supposed to get over this.  
_ _

__He knows, though, that he owes it to himself to at least try.  
_ _

__So he goes to his later afternoon history class and doesn’t think about Connor, just asks the girl sitting next to him about her twin brothers and laughs at their professor’s stupid jokes with her, and wonders why he hasn’t tried to be her friend until now.  
_ _

__It’s--it’s good, without Connor. It is. It’s bearable, and Dylan knows he could get used to it, he just doesn’t _want_ to. That’s what he’s always gotten stuck on--he knows he’d be absolutely fine without Connor, knows he could absolutely live a full life. He just would so much rather live that life with Connor in it, with Connor in his heart and by his side, with Connor’s hand in his.  
_ _

__He doesn’t look at the clock until it’s 11:50 pm. Mitch is, amazingly, with Auston. He’d seemed to know Dylan hadn’t wanted space until he did, and given it accordingly.  
_ _

__God, Dylan wished he had something to drink.  
_ _

__He writes a few poems, one about the trees in the courtyard and one about the ache in his heart, and they’re okay. Nothing special, but they’re okay.  
_ _

__He tries to ignore that that feels symbolic.  
_ _

__At 11:58 pm, someone knocks on his door, and when Dylan opens it, it’s Connor.  
_ _

__His eyes are red from crying, there are tear tracks on his cheeks, his hands are shaking when they reach out for Dylan, and his voice cracks when he says, “I’m in love with you.”  
_ _

__Something in Dylan breaks, and he closes his eyes, because Connor still doesn’t--  
_ _

__“I tried to kill myself about a year ago,” he says in response, instead of telling Connor he loves him too. Because he does, oh god, he _does_ , but if Connor thinks he’s in love with Dylan, he deserves to finally know this.  
_ _

__Connor doesn’t step back. In fact, he barely even looks surprised, and he says, “I knew you had depression, Dylan,” which, yeah, Dylan knew that too, even before his counselor told him so.  
_ _

__“It’s a part of you,” Connor continues. “I love all of you.”  
_ _

__“Okay,” Dylan says, and presses the heels of his palms to his eyes. “You--”  
_ _

__He can’t keep going. He has _no idea_ what to say.  
_ _

__Except:  
_ _

__“I was ready to let you go,” Dylan whispers. “I gave myself a day--” He checks his watch. It’s 12:01. “--starting midnight yesterday to love you, and then I decided I was done, because if you weren’t ever going to--and I deserved better than longing for someone who would never love me back.”  
_ _

__“Dylan,” Connor says, his voice raw, and Dylan can read every single emotion on his face, knows them all better than he knows the lines to his favorite book of poetry. “Dylan, I love you.”  
_ _

__Dylan’s crying when Connor pulls him close, and then kisses his cheeks despite the tears. “Can I kiss you?” Connor asks, and it’s--Dylan doesn’t know that he’s ever had anyone else ask him that before.  
_ _

__“Yes,” Dylan whispers, and Connor does.  
_ _

__Connor has always felt like coming home, to Dylan, and kissing him is no different. His entire body is warm, from both happiness and the feeling of Connor pressed against him, and even though there’s nothing particularly urgent about this kiss, Dylan feels his toes curl. Connor runs a hand through his hair, and Dylan presses his fingers into Connor’s back to hold him closer, and Connor kisses him, again and again and again.  
_ _

__Dylan pulls back, after a few minutes, to catch his breath and to process this all. Connor leans up and touches his forehead against Dylan’s.  
_ _

__“I’m sorry it took me so long to catch up,” Connor whispers.  
_ _

__Dylan still has a million things to work out. He still thinks about his parents every day, he still has days where he can’t get out of bed and he still, sometimes, feels that same pull that put him in the driver’s seat of that car with a bottle in his hand.  
_ _

__But he also trusts himself, now. He’s free, now. He thinks he can do this, thinks he can work with Connor to make their relationship into something lasting and beautiful in a way he couldn’t have, six months ago, when he first understood that what he felt for Connor was love.  
_ _

__Dylan smiles, and says, “You’re right on time.”_ _

**Author's Note:**

> you deserve to fall in love with yourselves, because each and every single one of you is amazing and irreplaceable and worth so, so much. because of recent events, i'd like to say it again: no one is ever disposable.  
> i hope you enjoyed it.  
> dylan did go home for thanksgiving, by the way. he didn't talk to his parents or family then, but he does, eventually, after a few months of settling into his relationship with connor and some more healing. for spring break, he goes home and meets connor's family, because yeah.


End file.
